Matt Bell, EXPLAIN YOURSELF!
For sheer wtf, you gotta read Matt Bell’s story “Cain, Caleb, Cameron,” recently in Wigleaf. It’s like one man’s personal Beowulf. (I’m not sure that holds up, but it’s funny, and if an enterprising composition student wants to put it in a paper, alongside a list of all the kennings in the piece, he can site this post as substantive material.)
Here, I’ve excerpted a good grossness, for the click-weary:
. . . First there was the push, push, then the blood, then my mistake-toothed firstborn howling in the nurse’s arms: chubby, too chubby, too covered in mother’s gore.
And then my wife continuing to push. And then the doctor’s begging her to stop. . . .
Anyway, uh, I met Matt Bell’s wife briefly in Ann Arbor. So for this installment, I’m asking her to EXPLAIN YOUR HUSBAND! [applause]